A Dream Within a Dream
by Bewittching
Summary: DH spoilers. Albus Potter finds himself in a world where Voldemort still wages war, Dumbledore and his grandparents are alive, and his parents have been dead for years.
1. Dream

__

"Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow-

You are not wrong who deem,

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand-

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep - while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?"

- Edgar Allen Poe 

Dream

Albus Potter opened his eyes. Everything was black. Well, it wasn't really black. It was more like a dark brown. As a matter of fact, it was like the color of mud. It even smelled a bit like mud. Albus tried to clear his head, concentrating on why he was smelling mud, but his thoughts were disorganized and fuzzy.

He lifted his nose a fraction from where he was lying. He turned his head slightly to the left and spat. If it smelled like mud, looked like mud, and tasted like mud, then the obvious answer, according to the slow processes of his brain, was that he was lying face down in mud.

With great effort, Albus rolled onto his back. He opened his eyes again, blinking rapidly at the light that assaulted his retinas. He felt sore and heavy and very very tired. What the hell had happened? Last thing he remembered was dodging a bludger, and then everything went black.

It was still raining, but the raindrops were gentle and soothing against his strangely feverish head. It was nothing compared to the stinging needles that attack your face while flying at such great velocities on a broomstick.

His broomstick! All of the sudden, Albus was much more aware of his strange situation with this new realization. He had fallen from his broom, that much obvious. Sweet Merlin he hoped his broomstick was okay! His dad had already bought him a new one this year after his had been broken during a Quidditch game against Ravenclaw. He still didn't know why his father had found it so funny that Albus had chased the snitch right into the Whomping Willow without really noticing where he was going. He thought his father would have been angry, not amused!

Every single muscle in his body rebelled against the movement, but Albus sat himself up, desperately looking for his broomstick. To his extreme relief, his broomstick lay just a few feet from himself. He snatched it up, running his fingers over the wood softly. No cracks. That was good. He frowned though as he noticed that the end of his broom was. . .smoking?

His face twisted in confusion. That was weird, but his broom was otherwise not harmed. That was the important thing. The sudden spurt of adrenaline was gone, leaving Albus tired once again. He plopped onto his back.

Albus turned his eyes to the sky, looking for the swooping crimson figures of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He could see none.

There had been a lightning storm brewing earlier, but James had insisted on the practice. The first game of the season against Slytherin was just in a few short weeks, and James wanted his last year as Gryffindor's Quidditch captain to be a roaring success. Albus fancied himself captain material for the next year, so he had had no qualms about flying in a lightning storm. After all, beating Slytherin came first, then your own personal safety.

However, this view was becoming a lot less appealing. Lightning storms were not the ideal practice weather, as evident by Albus' fall. He was okay on the ground. He probably would have noticed any broken bones by now, but what spurred Albus into finally finding the gumption to sit up and move wasn't the falling rain. It wasn't the loud crashes of thunder. It wasn't even the flash of lightning. No, it was the fact that Albus had fallen from his broom somehow, and nobody had come to see if he was alright.

Righteous anger coursed through him. He threw his head back and searched for the swooping figure of his brother or any of his teammates once again, but they were not to be seen. Maybe they had gone back inside? Those bastards.

Albus huffed.

He'd show them. There wasn't a better way to take revenge against a Gryffindor Quidditch team than a little green and silver hair for the big game against Slytherin. Albus was very unhappy with his supposed brother and friends. He was to make sure his teammates would get the message.

He finally made it to his feet, only stumbling just a bit. His head ached something wicked with the higher elevation. If he wasn't so miserable, he'd be half tempted to just lie back on the ground. It seemed as if his head would explode while he was picking up his broomstick.

He slowly made his way off the Quidditch pitch, heading to the front entrance. He would have stopped by the locker rooms any other day, but all he wanted was a bed. Hell, he was even looking forward to Madam Pomfrey's mother hen act. And that was a testament to exactly how shitty Albus felt. A smell suddenly wafted to his nose. He sniffed, his brow knitting together. What was that awful smell?

He checked the bottoms of both feet. Nope, nothing suspicious there. But his crimson robes caught his attention. They were . . . .burnt? Albus shook his head. He didn't feel like trying to find out why. He didn't think his head couldn't handle that kind of strain at the moment.

He hoped Filch wouldn't be anywhere near the Entrance Hall or the Infirmary. Albus didn't think he could clean up the mud and water tracks he'd surely make. He wasn't even sure if he could make it to the Infirmary.

He was thankful to have even reached the front doors, but Albus could feel some of his strength returning. Maybe that adrenaline would kick in long enough to get him up to the second floor. Sweet Merlin, but was he glad the Hospital Wing was on the second floor! He didn't think he could handle too many flights of stairs at the present.

Albus reached out to open the large wooden door to Hogwarts. He pushed. The door didn't budge. Huh. That was weird. Maybe the fall had addled his brains more than he'd originally thought. He was sure you pushed. He pulled. The door still didn't move.

His already foul mood deteriorating rapidly, Albus pulled his wand from the folds of his robes, thankful it hadn't been broken as he'd just now thought of that possibility, and tried to open the door. It shouldn't even be locked in the first place! Not this early!

"_Alohamora!_"

It wouldn't open. Damn. Albus tried as many unlocking spells as he could remember. However, no matter how many spells he'd tried, the door refused to open. Albus gave the door a vicious kick, much to his later dismay. That certainly wasn't very smart.

"Open up damn you!" he shouted.

He pounded his fist on the door. Dinner wouldn't start until six thirty. Why the hell was the door locked? It was never bloody locked!

He pounded on the door.

"Hey! Somebody let me in! This isn't funny! I'm soaked to the bone out here!"

The door opened, startling Albus. It was Headmistress McGonnagal. Uh oh. He didn't think she'd let him walk in all muddy and wet as he was. Maybe she'd help him out with a cleaning charm. No matter how much his mum had pushed him to learn, Albus still didn't know any.

"Oh Professor! Thank Merlin! Someone locked the door on me. I think it might have been James pulling a prank, but -"

Albus stopped when the professor blocked him from coming into the school. She had drawn her wand and motioned him to take a step back. He did, confused.

"Who are you? What are you doing on Hogwarts grounds?" asked McGonnagal. She had never talked to him in such a threatening manner before.

Albus grew even more confused.

"What?" he asked.

The professor glared. Albus was quietly shocked. The professor hadn't ever glared at him like that before. And the way she spoke to him, it was as if she didn't even know him. Did something happen that would require the Headmistress to ban any students from going outside? Was he so in trouble that McGonnagal would act like this?

He tried to brush it off and addressed her in his woo authority voice, so named by his sister after he had successfully wooed the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor out of giving him detention for the dung bomb that accidentally went off in his book bag.

"Professor, it's me! You know, your resident Gryffindor Quidditch star, straight O student, lover of all things pink and furry. . ." he trailed off. It didn't seem to be working. McGonnagal seemed even more angry for some reason.

"You are not a student here," asserted McGonnagal.

"But I am a student! I've been a student here for six years! I would have hoped you've noticed by now!" came the sarcastic reply.

Seeing her face darken, Albus added in a gentler tone, "I'm sorry for getting rude Professor. I've just had a bad day. Is everything okay? Did something bad happen?"

McGonnagal continued to glare, although her eyes were wary and held confusion. She shined the candle she was holding unto his face. Albus hadn't really noticed at first, but it was pretty dark outside. McGonnagal's eyes momentarily widened at the sight of him, but the glare and suspicion returned promptly.

"I will take you to the Headmaster. He will know what to do with you," she finally said at length.

Albus nodded, not sure what else he could say. McGonnagal was acting really weird, and he might as well play along. The Headmaster, though? What had happened between now and when he had fallen off his broom? He sure as hell didn't think McGonnagal had resigned!

McGonnagal kept her wand trained on him the entire way to her office, or whoever's office it was. Thankfully she had managed the appropriate cleaning charms. It didn't beat a real shower, but he wasn't wet and muddy any more. She had made him hand over his wand and leave his broom in the Entrance though. Albus didn't fancy his new broom being stolen, but before he could even protest she had silenced him with another piercing glare.

Albus kept looking around. The predicament he found himself in was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. Where were all the other students? The halls should be crowded by now with students on the way to dinner. What the hell was going on?

Fifteen minutes of stretched silence later saw them standing in front of a familiar stone gargoyle. Albus was quite thankful that her office was on the fourth floor. It was by no means easy on him, but it could have been worse. Hogwarts had a lot of stairs.

"Cockroach Clusters," said McGonnagal sharply.

Albus grimaced. Lily had tricked him into trying one a couple of years ago. Nasty things. Why would McGonnagal use that as a password? She usually stuck to words like "chivalry" or "compassion." The gargoyle gave way to a familiar spiraling stone staircase. Great. More stairs. At the top, McGonnagal rapt her knuckles against the heavy wooden door. Almost immediately a voice answered.

"Come in."

McGonnagal opened the door to reveal her office. Well, it wasn't the office Albus was used to. This office was jam packed with clutter. Papers littered the desk. Strange silver instruments whizzed from a corner. A magnificent gold and red bird nestled on a stand. This wasn't the neat and orderly office he was accustomed to. And the old man with a long beard wasn't who he usually saw behind the desk either.

"Now Minerva, who do we have here," asked the old man politely.

Albus felt chilled. The man's eyes were as sharp as ice. He found that he couldn't hold his gaze, instead looking at his beard. He'd never seen a beard that long before.

"I found him outside on the steps. He was banging on the door demanding to be let in. He claims to be a student," said McGonnagal. She threw Albus an accusing look.

Albus felt his foul mood worsen. He wasn't in the mood for games. He just wanted to go to the Hospital Wing for Merlin sakes! It usually wasn't this hard to get there!

"What do you mean 'claims to be a student'? I am a student here! Been for the past six years or so! And you know me! Don't try and act like you don't! Hell, you've known me my entire life! You used to baby sit me and my brother and sister when we came to Hogwarts with Dad! What is going on here? Why are you playing around? And who is that weird guy behind you desk?"

Albus finished his rant pointing to the man behind the desk.

The old man gazed over his half moon spectacles, as if studying Albus.

McGonnagal was looking scandalized.

"I think I would have remembered keeping you! I have never before met you before in my life young man, and it would benefit you to show the proper respect towards the headmaster and myself!" she exclaimed.

"But you _are _the headmaster, er, headmistress! You have been for the past twenty something years!" asserted Albus.

"And just what might your name be my dear boy?" asked the old man.

Albus brought his attention back to the man. He seemed extraordinarily calm compared to Albus and McGonnagal. It was weird, but Albus felt as if he had seen this man before. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Something funny was definitely going on. It was apparent that McGonnagal hadn't a clue to his identity.

"My name is Albus. Albus Potter. And I think something very strange is happening."

The old man's eyebrows rose straight to his hairline. Professor McGonnagal gave a small gasp. She sat down hard in one of the chairs before the desk, leaving Albus to stand alone.

"Why, what a coincidence. My name is Albus too. However, my last name is Dumbledore, not Potter," said the old man conversationally.

Albus' eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly. What the hell?

"Albus Dumbledore was killed back during the war! Hell, my father even named me after him! He's dead you sick bastard! Didn't your mother ever teach you that it wasn't polite to masquerade as the dead?!" yelled Albus.

The Dumbledore impersonator sat back into his chair, observing the young man in front of him with steepled fingers.

"Albus?" ventured McGonnagal hesitantly.

"Yes, Minerva?"

"What?"

Albus and the old man looked at each other. They had both answered.

McGonnagal shook her head. She looked at the old man.

"Do you think this is some sort of Death Eater ruse? This boy looks awfully similar to the Potters. I would not put it past You Know You to try something like this, although, I am not sure as to why he would send this boy who claims to be a Potter," she said.

The old man regarded them both keenly. "I think it is entirely possible. Either that or there is another explanation."

The old man turned to Albus.

"Are you in any relation to the Potters of Godric's Hollow?"

"Of course I am! I'm their son!" exclaimed Albus.

Albus didn't know what kind of response he would get, but he wasn't expecting McGonnagal to shout out in anger.

"You lie! You must have been sent by You Know Who!" spat McGonnagal.

"I'm not lying! And for your information, I _don't_ know who!" replied Albus just as heatedly.

The old man leaned forward in interest.

"Are you aware of the situation with the Dark Lord Voldemort?" asked the impersonator.

Albus raised an eyebrow. "Uh, you mean the fact that Voldemort's been dead for the past few decades?"

The old man's eyebrows once again rose into his hairline. McGonnagal gave a strangled sort of yelp. Albus just gave them a look. What? Were these people afraid to say Voldemort's name? It wasn't like he was going to pop around the corner and yell "boo!" He'd been dead for years.

The old man once again spoke to Albus.

"I believe that we have only one option left to us. Would you be willing to answer questions pertaining to your identity and loyalties under Veritiserum? I give you my word that I will not ask anything further," he asked.

Albus didn't like where this was going. His dad was the head of the DMLE. What could they find out about him that Albus would have no qualms in spilling once that potion was in his system.

Seeing his hesitation, the old man's benevolent air turned serious. Power seemed to exude from him. Albus was more than a little intimidated. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

"If you refuse to submit yourself to questioning here, then I'm afraid that I will have to put you in a holding cell. You will later meet certain individuals who will have no qualms in forcing Veritiserum into your system by which ever means possible. We are at war and we take no risks," said the man.

Albus really didn't like where this was going. But what could he do? He didn't have a choice. He himself didn't have anything to hide, but if they asked questions about his dad . . .

Albus shrugged, his decision made, or more correctly made for him.

"I don't have anything to hide," Albus said quietly. He continued. "And frankly, you don't leave me with much of a choice. I'm half way convinced that this is a very real dream anyway, so, let's get on with it."

The old man nodded, coming around the desk. From within his robes, he produced a small crystal bottle.

"Have a seat. Just three drops should do it. Stick out your tongue, if you would please."

Albus sat down. He wished the queasy feelings in his stomach would go away. He stuck out his tongue and three drops fell onto it. He swallowed. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, at first, until his mind was all the sudden rather cloudy. The old man was asking a question. He was compelled to answer. He couldn't lie if he tried.

"What is your full name?" asked the man.

"Albus Severus Potter," replied Albus. He distantly noted a surprised gasp from McGonnagal.

"Who are your parents?"

"Harry James Potter and Ginerva Molly Potter nee Weasley."

Albus once again heard a gasp from McGonnagal. This time it was much louder.

The old man mumbled to himself. "That was unexpected."

He continued. "What school do you currently attend?"

"I go to Hogwarts. I am a sixth year Gryffindor."

The old man nodded. It was obvious from the Gryffindor Quidditch robes.

"Do you, in any way, support Lord Voldemort or any of his ideals?"

"No," answered Albus.

The old man nodded and pulled another bottle from his robes.

"This is the antidote. Please stick out your tongue," said the man.

Albus complied. Moments later he was firmly back in his own mind. It was definitely an experience not worth repeating. He was surprised that the old man had actually kept his word, but he was more than a little confused about the questions themselves. What the Dumbledore imposter had asked was common knowledge. But the question about Voldemort . . .a sudden, horrible thought wormed its way into his mind.

The old man sat back down. He seemed older than just a few moments before. McGonnagal kept staring at him. It was kind of creepy. Albus fidgeted.

"Erm. This might sound a bit . . .improbable, but maybe, by some freak accident or something, I think I might have traveled back in time?" Albus proposed hesitantly.

The old man, who might in truth be the real Albus Dumbledore, opened his mouth to reply, but Albus cut him off before he could say a word. Albus spoke so fast he wondered if the man could understand him.

"I know you probably think I'm a, erm, Death Eater or something, but the truth is, sir, I'm not. I mean, you could be from some sort of terrorist group yourself. But you didn't ask me any questions about my dad, or anything that could be used against my family, and you honestly don't seem like a dream. I kind of wish this was a dream, so I know that I would wake up, but then, why am I so awake right now? Time travel isn't impossible, but I don't see how I did it and -"

The old man held up his hand, staunching the garbled stream of consciousness spewing from Albus' mouth.

The continued. "What year is it for you Mr. Potter?"

Albus blinked. The man, Dumbledore, referred to him as "Mr. Potter." Did that mean that he believed him?

"Er, 2022."

Dumbledore seemed taken aback. "My, that is a long time from now."

"What year is it here, sir?" asked Albus. He really wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

"1996."

Albus' eyes widened. He quickly did the math.

"Whoa! Twenty six years? I've gone back in time _twenty six_ years? So the war really is still going on? My dad would be in his, what, fifth year now? My mum would be in her fourth?"

Dumbledore seemed suddenly uncomfortable. Albus, although disconcerted with Dumbledore's expression, asked the question that had been bothering him.

"So you really do believe me? You believe that I'm Albus Potter?" ask Albus.

Dumbledore nodded. "The veritiserum that you ingested was from my own private stores. It is remarkably potent. I very much doubt that any wizard could overcome it's effects. Also, the magnificent creature you see in the corner is a phoenix. If Fawkes had sensed even a trace of dark magic or ill intentions from you, the he wouldn't be enjoying his nap. Rather, he would most likely attack."

Albus gave the bird a wary glance. It had its head tucked under its wing, seemingly unworried about the stranger's presence.

Dumbledore continued. "Mr. Potter, I do not believe that you have _just_ traveled back in time. I believe there are greater forces at work here."

"What? Why couldn't I have just traveled back in time? What other explanation could there be?" asked Albus, confused. Of course he'd traveled back in time! If it was 1996 now and the last time he looked at a calendar it had been 2022, then the logical answer, if it could be referred to as such, was that he had gone back in time!

"I cannot be sure, but I have a theory."

Dumbledore stood up and walked to the rows of bookcases behind his desk. He ran his gnarled fingers over their spines, finally stopping at an old red covered book. He pulled out the rather small tome.

"There are many thing in the magical world that have never been explained. That is what makes our world so mysterious and often times dangerous. There have been phenomenal happenings throughout history that have never been explained. Sometimes a wizard must trust what cannot be proven. For this is the very nature of magic. It cannot be proven."

Dumbledore opened the book. McGonnagal was still staring at Albus. It was as if she was seeing a ghost. This just proved to make Albus feel that much more uncomfortable.

"I did some research with an old friend of mine, Nicholas Flamel. However, the nature of our research proved to be improvable. After many fruitless years, we both decided to abandon our collaborated efforts. But if my theory is correct, Mr. Potter. Then I don't believe you have just traveled back in time. I believe that you may have crossed the dimensional thread linking our world to yours. I believe that you are from a very similar yet vastly different world than the one you are in now."

Albus jumped out of his chair.

"Are you trying to tell me I'm in some sort of alternate dimension? I could have just traveled back in time! I'm not in some other world! I can just use a time turner to get back! What in Merlin's name makes you say that anyway?" yelled Albus angrily.

Dumbledore answered calmly.

"I say this because on Halloween 1981, Harry Potter was murdered by Lord Voldemort, and Ginny Weasley was murdered right before her second year during a Death Eater raid in Diagon Alley."

oO0Oo

Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable except for the unrecognizable.


	2. Orphan

_"Maybe this world is another planet's Hell?"_

- Aldous Huxley

Orphan

oO0Oo

"Are you trying to tell me I'm in some sort of alternate dimension? I could have just traveled back in time! I'm not in some other world! What in Merlin's name makes you say that?" yelled Albus angrily.

Dumbledore answered calmly.

"I say this because on Halloween 1981, Harry Potter was murdered by Lord Voldemort, and Ginny Weasley was murdered right before her second year during a Death Eater raid in Diagon Alley."

oO0Oo

Albus stared at the man his father had so admired. The very same man for who he was so named. No, his parents couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible.

"No, no you're wrong. I just saw my dad last week! He was alive as you are now! I, I -"

Albus sat down hard, staring into the sympathetic faces. He was suddenly angry, angry at their looks of pity, angry at his situation, angry that he couldn't just _wake up_. His parents were alive!

"Don't stare at me like that! My parents aren't dead! I'm just dreaming! I'm sure I'm just dreaming! I must have hit my head when I fell, or - or I've been cursed! Yeah, I must have been -"

He stopped. Tears were threatening to spill, but he swallowed them back. He was acting ridiculous, letting himself get so upset. It was a dream. I had to be. If it wasn't and he had just lost his parents, he wouldn't know what to do. It was all just a dream, or more likely a nightmare.

McGonnagal seemed a bit teary eyed herself, and she did something that surprised Albus greatly. She stood up from her chair and encompassed Albus into a hug. He didn't return it. He was still too much in shock, but he took comfort in the fact that this McGonnagal reminded him of the woman of his world.

She finally returned to her seat, much to Albus' secret relief, and transfigured a quill into a handkerchief, dabbing her eyes.

"You poor boy. Albus, is there anyway we could send him home to his family? He can't stay here. Not with the war," said McGonnagal.

Dumbledore nodded and held up the small red book. "If there is away, then this book will help. It is the collected findings of Nicholas' and mine's work. I shall see what I can do. But first we must determine what caused him to cross over."

McGonnagal leaned in towards Dumbledore, gesturing toward Albus. "But Albus, look at the boy! He just found out his parents are dead here! Certainly you can question him tomorrow about the events leading up to the crossing. He should go and see Madame Pomfrey!"

"You are right Minerva. Nothing will get done tonight."

Albus barely paid attention to the conversation. He was still reeling with the knowledge that his parents, for now, were essentially dead. Of course his parents were alive in his world, but here they weren't. They didn't exist anymore. He was an orphan, just like his dad was, but at least he still had his - A sudden thought aroused him from his stupor.

"James and Lily!"

Albus looked wildly at the two adults.

"They're dead too, aren't they?! My whole family is dead!"

Dumbledore and McGonnagal exchanged uneasy glances.

"Albus, you may have lost your parents, but James and Lily are still alive," said McGonnagal.

Albus shook his head in denial. She was wrong. Of course they were dead! If his parents had died at such young ages, there was not way in hell he'd still have his siblings.

"That's impossible. My parents, as you say, are dead. If they didn't live long enough to have me, what makes you say my brother and sister are alive?" asked Albus.

Hope flared to life within him. Maybe, by some miracle, his brother and sister had been sent here too. Maybe he wouldn't be alone. Maybe they'd have each other through this hell. Maybe -

But the look on Dumbledore and McGonnagal's face wasn't what he expected.

"James and Lily are your brother and sister?" asked Dumbledore, unsure.

Albus nodded, any hope he once held slipping away. "It's me, James, and Lily. James is the oldest and Lily is the youngest. They were named after my grandparents on my father's side."

An awkward silence followed. Finally, Albus decided to ask a question that was bugging him about what the headmistress, or rather, deputy headmistress had said earlier.

"Professor McGonnagal said James and Lily are still alive, but -"

Dumbledore held up his hand, interrupting him. "I'm afraid I may have misunderstood you earlier. Your brother and sister are not here. However, your grandfather and grandmother are. I apologize for the misunderstanding. I had no intention of letting you believe that your siblings might be here as well. I am sorry to get your hopes up."

Albus' mouth dropped, his brother and sister all but forgotten in his shock. His grandparents were here? They were alive? How? Why?

"They're alive?" asked Albus. His voice was nearly a whisper.

"I take it they are not in your dimension?" replied Dumbledore kindly.

Albus shook his head. "No. They died when my dad was just a baby. He never even knew them, let alone me."

McGonnagal sniffed loudly into her handkerchief.

"I can't believe they are dead in your world. Lily and James. . . you never even knew your own grandparents," she said.

"My grandparents are alive. My parents are dead. None of this is right. Sweet Merlin. I just want to go home," muttered Albus to himself.

"But Albus! What are we going to do with the boy? He can't stay here at Hogwarts! The students aren't even here anymore," exclaimed McGonnagal.

Albus snapped his head up. "What do you mean there aren't any students here? It's a bloody school for Merlin's sakes!"

McGonnagal scowled disapprovingly, her sadness forgotten in the face of rudeness. "Mr. Potter, please be so kind as to watch your language."

Albus had the decency to lightly blush at the reprimand. At least this McGonnagal reminded him of his.

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "This is a curious situation we have. We are in the middle of a war with Lord Voldemort, and although things have been at a standstill these past two months, I fear the reprieve shall not last. The school has been shut down by the Ministry. Our most esteemed Minister Fudge felt this necessary after the events of last year," said Dumbledore. He did not elaborate, but continued.

"It will take time to find a way to send you home, if we even can. Time is a rare commodity nowadays. We must find somewhere other than Hogwarts for you to stay. Your grandparents on both sides of your family are alive, however they do not know of your existence. The Weasleys will welcome you in with open arms, no doubt, but they have so many children there as it is. You may not receive the attention you need in your unique situation.

I think the best choice is to contact the Potters. They have no children, barring your father who is dead in this world. James works as an Auror, but Lily works with experimental charms. She'll be home with you. I think getting to know the grandson they never had the chance to meet will do them some good, as I am sure you would want the chance to know your grandparents. However, I leave it up for you to decide. You might feel more comfortable at the Weasleys."

Albus stared at his hands. It would be so easy to go to the Weasleys. He knew his Grandmum and Granddad. He knew his uncles. He knew the Burrow. It would almost be like being home again. But then Albus realized that going to his Weasley grandparents wasn't an option. He didn't want to be surrounded by people he knew and loved, people who wouldn't even know him. He never existed to the Weasleys. He would much rather stay with people he'd never met. It wouldn't hurt so much.

"I'd love to stay with the Potters, if they want me to that is," he amended.

Albus was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep. His body was sore, his head still ached, and his clothes still gave off a funny burnt smell. Maybe if he found a nice bed to crawl into, he'd wake up in the morning back where he was supposed to be. His exhaustion must have shown on his face.

"Albus," started McGonnagal kindly. It seemed she had a bit of trouble calling him this and not looking towards Dumbledore. "Let's get you to the Infirmary. You need to rest, and Madame Pomfrey still needs to check you over."

"I will try and contact James and Lily tonight. We'll sort everything out in the morning," said Dumbledore.

Albus nodded, standing up. He swayed on his feet a bit, but McGonnagal grasped him firmly under his elbow. He nodded his thanks to her, somewhat embarrassed by his display.

The walk to the Infirmary was a tense and silent affair, much like the walk to the Headmaster's office had been. Albus was limping slightly. He hadn't thought about it, but his ankle was must be sprained. He looked to the professor. She was holding out a candle in front of them, walking slightly ahead. The storm had darkened the sky, otherwise the sun would just be setting and the castle wouldn't be nearly so dark. It had been almost black when Albus had first come in. The torches on the wall were lit few and far between. It wasn't nearly this dark in the hallways when the students were here.

It sure was a long walk from the headmaster's office to the Infirmary. He probably wouldn't have given it a second thought if his ankle hadn't started to throb with such intensity. They had to double back once when the staircase moved while they were on it, making Albus that much more irritated.

When they finally made it to the double doors of the Hospital Wing, Albus was more than grateful to sit on the bed McGonnagal had gestured for him to take.

"Poppy must still be down at dinner. I'll just be a minute fetching her Mr. Potter. Until then, I expect you to stay on that bed and don't move," said McGonnagal sternly.

She disappeared out the door.

He sat alone on the bed, the dimly lit room's torches flickering and creating shadows on the wall. His mind drifted off to his family. Would they even know where he was? Would they think him kidnapped? Dead even?

And what about these grandparents of his? He'd never met them. He'd only heard stories about them, and even those were rare. His own dad didn't even seem to know all that much. Albus wondered if his dad's godfather was alive here too. Maybe even Teddy's dad and mum.

But would his grandparents even want to see him? They had lost their son to Voldemort fifteen years ago. Would they even want to see his face? It was true that he looked an awful lot like his father. He had the same messy black hair, and he'd been the only one of the three children to inherit his father's eye color. His facial structure was more his mother's, but there was no denying that the Potter genes were dominant. How would his grandparents react to a stranger who looked so much like their son?

He jumped when he heard a noise. It was the tapping of boots coming from outside the double doors. It must be the two witches coming back.

But the man who stepped through the door wasn't McGonnagal or Madame Pomfrey by any stretch of the imagination. The man was tall, had a large, hooked nose, with glittering black eyes and equally dark hair that looked stringy and dirty. His black robes billowed around his frame as he stalked, for lack of a better word, into the room. His eyes immediately latched onto Albus'. Albus felt a tiny bit of apprehension wiggle its way into his stomach.

The man pulled out his wand so fast, Albus would have missed it if he'd blinked.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" asked the man. His voice was low and dangerous, hissed between his teeth.

Albus had to forcefully stop himself from gulping. Who the hell was this man? He'd never seen him before. He just stared, wide eyed. What was he supposed to say? Was he even allowed to say his real name?

But before he could come up with something to say, a voice rang out from the door.

"Severus! Why in the world do you have your wand drawn on someone who is in obvious need of medical treatment!"

Albus' attention was drawn to the man at the door. He had shaggy dirty blond hair streaked with gray and amber colored eyes. And with a sudden jolt, Albus knew exactly who that man was. He'd seen him enough in pictures not to recognize him.

Remus Lupin was alive and standing right before him.

oO0Oo


	3. Funeral

_"I felt a funeral in my brain,_

_and mourners, to and fro,_

_Kept treading, treading, till it seemed_

_That sense was breaking through . . ."_

- Emily Dickinson

Funeral

oO0Oo

"Severus! Why in the world do you have your wand drawn on someone who is in obvious need of medical treatment!"

Albus' attention was drawn to the man at the door. He had shaggy dirty blond hair streaked with gray and amber colored eyes. And with a sudden jolt, Albus knew exactly who that man was. He'd seen him enough in pictures not to recognize him.

Remus Lupin was alive and standing right before him.

oO0Oo

And then Albus choked as the realization hit him. Severus? As in Severus Snape? The same man who he was named after? He looked at the intimidating man with new eyes.

Snape turned his glare to the newcomer. "We are at war Lupin! Anyone unknown is suspect! Even a seemingly injured boy such as him could be an enemy in disguise."

Lupin rolled his eyes, much to Albus' silent amusement.

"Severus, I'm sure there's a good explanation. Neither Poppy nor Minerva would leave an enemy unattended in the hospital wing."

Snape glared at Lupin, who met his acidic look calmly. It seemed as if there was a silent battle of wills between the two men. Finally, after what had seemed to be an awfully tense and long time to Albus, Snape pivoted on his heels and left the Hospital Wing.

Lupin turned and regarded Albus. It seemed as if this was the first time he had really gotten a good look at him. He frowned.

Albus didn't know what this man would see. It was all just so surreal. Would he see his best friend? Would he see someone who looked suspiciously like his best friend's dead son? Would he see a total stranger?

Albus fidgeted under Lupin's scrutiny. He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that so many dead people only known to him by photos and stories were alive and breathing before his very eyes. He couldn't help but wish that Teddy was here, just so he could see the man standing in front of Albus.

"So, how did you come to be in the Hospital Wing?" asked Lupin casually.

He crossed the room to stand closer to Albus' bed.

"Umm, McGonnagal brought me?" replied Albus.

The man, Teddy's father for Merlin's sakes, cracked a smile.

"What I meant was what happened to you that would entail a trip to the infirmary?" corrected Lupin.

"Oh, yeah, well, um . . . that's a long story, I guess. I'm not even sure if I'm allowed to say or not. The headmaster said he was going to talk to me in the morning, so, uh, yeah," mumbled Albus.

He could feel himself slowly turning red, but really, what was he supposed to say to Teddy's dead father? It wasn't like he'd ever had experience making small talk with dead people.

Lupin looked as if he was going to reply, but was interrupted.

"Remus! What are you doing here?" exclaimed the voice of McGonnagal. Lupin turned to the doorway, and Albus was so very thankful for his professor's good timing.

A familiar figure followed Albus' former headmistress into the room. He didn't know whether to be relieved to see a familiar face or scared of the impending mandatory two day hospital stay that was sure to be in his near future.

"I've just come to pick up the potion I asked Poppy for," replied Lupin.

"Oh, of course Remus! It's in my office. I'll just be a minute," said Madam Pomfrey.

McGonnagal cast a wary look between her former student and Albus.

"Remus, it seems as if you have met Albus," observed McGonnagal.

Remus was visibly surprised. He glanced over his shoulder at the boy sitting on the hospital bed.

"Albus?"

"Yes, he's just arrived. Had a small accident upon his arrival, but I have no doubt that Poppy will see that he's better in no time."

"Albus huh? Nice name," said Lupin looking at Albus curiously.

"Erm, thanks," said Albus.

"Here we are Mr. Lupin! Now make sure Amelia takes half before bed tonight and then the rest in the morning. Make her stay in bed all day tomorrow, and maybe the morning after just to make sure. Dragon Pox are a nasty business, but very treatable," instructed Madam Pomfrey, handing Lupin the large vial.

"Thank you Poppy. I really appreciate it," said Lupin.

Madam Pomfrey waved him off.

"It's my job Remus. Now get home to that little girl of yours. Merlin knows Gwen must be at her wits end dealing with a sick child and that rambunctious boy of yours."

Lupin nodded farewell to McGonnagal, and with one last inquisitive look at Albus, took his leave.

"Now Mr. Potter, let's have a look at you!" exclaimed the nurse.

Albus' eyes widened in surprise. "You know who I am?"

"Yes Mr. Potter, I thought it would be prudent to inform Madam Pomfrey of your true identity. The headmaster and I will see you in the morning. Goodnight. Poppy, you as well," said McGonnagal.

She left, leaving Albus at the tender mercies of the school nurse.

"Lay down Mr. Potter. It will be easier for me to run my tests."

Madam Pomfrey ran her wand up and down his body, muttering diagnostic charms. She stopped when the wand glowed a burnt orange over his ankle.

"Seems to be a sprain. I take it you're feeling pain?" she asked him.

Albus nodded. It didn't hurt so bad when he wasn't walking on it, but it was still throbbing. He took this time to question the nurse about something that was bothering him.

"Madam Pomfrey? May I ask you a question?" asked Albus.

Madam Pomfrey hummed in agreement.

"Mr. Lupin, he was here to get a potion for Dragon Pox?"

"Yes," said Madam Pomfrey, but she did not elaborate. Albus decided to just plough ahead with his questions.

"The girl he was getting the medicine for, who is she?"

Madam Pomfrey turned from looking through vials of different colored potions to regard her patient.

"Amelia is his daughter, of course."

Albus felt something cold settle in his stomach.

"And that woman, Gwen? And the boy? Is that his wife and son?" asked Albus, his tone bordering desperate.

Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. "Yes of course."

It felt as if his stomach was turning in on itself.

"Then he's not married to Nymphadora Tonks?" asked Albus urgently.

"Nymphadora Tonks! Heavens No!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey, visibly surprised.

"Oh," whispered Albus.

If Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin had never gotten married, if Remus was married to another woman in this reality, then that meant that Teddy Lupin would never be born. Teddy, who was a brother in all but blood to Albus, was never to exist in this reality. This new realization knocked the breath from his lungs. Teddy Lupin wasn't dead, but he would never be alive. Albus' parents were dead. There wasn't anyway that he or his sibling could be born, but Teddy's parents . . .

Looking at his stricken face, Madam Pomfrey seemed to have come to a realization.

"Were they married in your world?" the nurse inquired gently.

Albus nodded and replied in a detached tone. "They died before I was born, but they had a son, Teddy. He's like a brother to me. If Lupin and Tonks haven't gotten together in this world, then I guess Teddy will never be born."

"Oh my, you poor dear. It must have come as quite a shock to see Remus alive then. I'm so very sorry," comforted Madam Pomfrey as she patted his shoulder.

Albus just shook his head. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to look at Madam Pomfrey's face. All he would see was pity, he was sure.

"Well, it looks like you've just got a twisted ankle. I'll give you a potion for that. It'll be as good as new in no time. You also seem to be suffering from a mild case of magical exhaustion. I assume this is because of your travel between worlds," Madam Pomfrey shook her head, "I'm honestly amazed, but not surprised. When you're as old as I, you learn that there isn't all that much that can surprise you anymore," said Madam Pomfrey with a warm smile.

Albus smiled back tentatively. It was nice to see that Madam Pomfrey was still the same kindhearted woman in this world. With any luck, she might have stopped insisting on prolonged periods in the infirmary. Albus thought about it. Nah. That was just hopeful wishing.

"I'll be giving you a dose of dreamless sleeping potion. I can only imagine that you'll need it tonight."

Albus nodded in agreement. "Yes, that would sure be nice, thank you."

She handed him two vials with instructions to down them. The one for his ankle tasted awful. It kind of reminded Albus of the dirt he had eaten when he had fallen from his broom. The dreamless sleep potion, thankfully, was a bit more manageable.

He could feel his eyelids becoming heavy almost immediately. He welcomed the oblivion of sleep.

oO0Oo

James Potter leaned back into his chair, engrossed in the drama unfolding before him.

"Come on! Come on! Just a little farther! No! No! Bloody hell! Block it! Block the damn- No! Bugger it! You lousy -"

"James! Can you keep it down in there! The whole neighborhood may be able to hear you, but the men on the telly surely can't!"

"But we just lost Lils!" shouted James from the living room, his eyes never leaving the brightly lit screen.

Lily Potter walked into her living room, drying her hands on a dish towel.

"Honestly James! If I had known that introducing you to muggle technology would have turned out like this, I would never have gotten the damn thing to work in the first place!" exclaimed Lily.

James just let his head flop back, lying in a boneless heap in his favorite chair.

"We lost. I can't believe we lost to Manchester," moaned James.

Lily only smirked. "I'm sure you'll get over it dear."

"No, no. I'm quite sure it's the end of the world, or maybe just my world, but my point is that I don't think I'll be able to live with Manchester wiping the floor with us."

"Well if you can't live with the loss, I guess I'll just have to throw out those cookies I just baked. Merlin knows you won't be able to stomach anything," remarked Lily.

James perked up. "Cookies? You made cookies? Why, I'm feeling much better. Yes, I think the prognosis is good. I shall live to see another day! My dear Lily! This is a cause for celebration! To the kitchen!"

Lily laughed at her husband. He rushed to the kitchen.

"I'm surprised I didn't even notice the smell!" he called back to her.

"I've just taken them out of the oven, so don't burn your tongue!" she replied with a chuckle.

It had been hard over the years for the married couple, what with losing their only child and the war raging, but somehow they had managed to stay together throughout all the pain and hardship. As long as James could still make her laugh through her tears, she would be okay and so would he.

A green fire suddenly erupted in her fireplace, startling her. They were protected under the Fidelius charm with very few people knowing where they were. It was necessary with James and her being so high on Voldemort's "to kill" list. So it wasn't everyday that they would get a fire call. Suddenly, Dumbledore's head popped through.

"Albus! What a surprise! What do we owe the visit?" asked Lily.

"Ah, Lily! I'm glad you're here! There is a matter I would like to speak with you and James about. Is it convenient for you both to come through to Hogwarts?" asked the headmaster.

"There isn't anything wrong, is there Albus?" asked Lily tentatively. Merlin she hoped no one had died.

"Oh, no. Nothing is wrong, per say. But it is very important that we talk."

"Alright Albus, let me get James. We'll be there in a few minutes."

"Ah, thank you Lily," replied Dumbledore, his head disappearing and the flames extinguishing.

"James!" called Lily.

"Yeah Lils!" came the response from the kitchen.

"Albus just fire called! He needs to see us right away."

James wandered into the living room, a half eaten cookie in his hand.

"Did he say what it was about?" asked James.

Lily shook her head. "No, but he said it was urgent."

"Well, if it's urgent, then lets not keep the man waiting," said James, throwing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace.

oO0Oo


	4. Lies

"_If we shadows have offended, _

_Think but this, and all is mended, _

_That you have but slumber'd here _

_While these visions did appear. _

_And this weak and idle theme,_

_No more yielding but a dream,_

_Gentles, do not reprehend: _

_If you pardon we will mend. _

_Else the Puck a liar call. _

_Give me your hands, if we be friends, _

_And Robin shall restore amends."_

- William Shakespeare

Lies

oO0Oo

Even though he had been using the Floo Network for as long as he could remember, James Potter couldn't land on his feet if his life depended on it. His wife, ever the graceful one, not only managed to land on her feet, but not a speck of dust could be seen marring her forest green robe.

James picked himself up from the ground. His glasses were askew, his hair was messier than ever, and his gray robe was now black with soot. With an amused glance from his wife, he mumbled a well practiced cleaning spell. A polite cough sounded from the other side of the room.

"I'm so glad that you both could join me on such short notice. Please, have a seat," said Dumbledore, gesturing to the comfy armchairs situated in front of his desk.

Lily and James took a seat.

"Would either of you care for some tea? Or perhaps a lemon drop?" inquired the aged man.

The couple politely declined.

Dumbledore got straight to business. "I'm sure you both are wondering what reason I could have for requesting your presence. Let me say first of all, there has been no deaths, and Voldemort has not made any moves as of late. The reason I have called you here is entirely, to my knowledge, unrelated to the war."

"So why are we here Albus? Surely this isn't just a social visit?" inquired James.

Albus shook his head. "I only wish it was. I am unsure on how to breach the subject."

Dumbledore regarded Lily over his half moon spectacles. "Lily, do you remember the conversation we had one night many years ago when you questioned me about my then current research I was conducting with Nicholas Flamel?"

Lily seemed surprised. "That was an awfully long time ago Albus. I'm afraid my memory might not be as good as yours."

With an encouraging look from the Headmaster, Lily continued.

"It wasn't on the uses of dragon's blood. That was before my time. Was it . . . Oh! I remember now! It was something to do with different planes of existence. I was doing a research project in Charms on the abilities of phoenixes to manipulate magic and travel to different existences!"

Dumbledore nodded with a small smile. "Exactly."

"So, what? Is there something we should know about Fawkes?" asked James.

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, no. It's nothing to do with Fawkes."

"Oh Albus! Just cut to the chase! What in the world do you want to tell us?" exclaimed Lily.

"Yes exactly Lily! What in the world! Or more precisely, who from which world!"

James and Lily gave each other a look. What was the Headmaster talking about?

"When you came up to my office asking about a phoenix's abilities, I told you of my research into the area of inter-dimensional travel. I explained that a phoenix can find a "thread" if you will and travel to an alternate plane of existence, or in laymen's terms, a different world, an alternate reality if you will. There had been accounts of people who had somehow, and without explanation, claimed to have traveled here from an alternate reality. These sort of people, in normal circumstances, would be seen as mentally unbalanced.

However, in every known case of such a person claiming to be from an alternate dimension, experiments have confirmed that their bodies are molecularly incompatible to this world. Everything in existence has a common base molecular pattern that serves as a building block for matter. The dimension travelers' molecules are noticeably different. Hence, credence has been given, however it is still a hotly debated issue among scholars. The simplest explanation is that this is just another facet of magic that must be accepted at face value."

James nodded. "Okay, I get it. You're saying that there are different worlds out there, and you're saying that people can travel between worlds. But what does this have to do with Lily and me?"

"Well," Dumbledore began, "I'm afraid that we have a dimension traveler within our midst."

"What?! You can't be serious!" exclaimed Lily.

"I am very serious Lily. Earlier this evening a young man was found injured and banging on the doors to the castle. He is a student of Hogwarts from another dimension."

"Are you sure Dumbledore? Are you sure this isn't some trick of Voldemort's?" asked James.

"I am positive. The boy was questioned under my own private store of Veritiserum."

"I'm still not sure why you chose to inform us. Wouldn't it have been best for us to learn this information at the next Order meeting?" asked Lily.

"The boy in question is a relation of yours. I felt that you both had the right to know in advance," stated Dumbledore, steepling his fingers and waiting for the reactions.

Lily turned white. She could only guess of one boy who could be a Hogwarts student and a relation of theirs. But their son was dead. Harry was dead. It just couldn't be . . .

James, on the other hand, wasn't as perceptive as his wife.

"What do you mean he's related to us? I don't have any relatives, living or dead, that could be in Hogwar - " he stopped.

"Albus -" began Lily.

Dumbledore raised his hand. "I know what you both are thinking, and let me say that this boy is not Harry."

James felt saddened and angry. He didn't know how he could deal with having his greatest dream come true, but at the same time the only thing he wanted more in the whole world was to have his baby back. Why, if there was a dimension traveler, couldn't it have been their son?

Lily, while just as disappointed and sad, had an epiphany.

She snorted. James gave her a look, and Dumbledore looked just as surprised at her sudden change of mood.

"Please, Albus, don't tell me it's my nephew! It can't be Dudley Dursley!"

James actually gave a bark of laughter. The somber mood was lifted. Lily and James both regarded Dumbledore with something akin to dreaded expectation. Surely it was Dudley. The couple didn't actually have any other young Hogwarts-aged relatives.

Dumbledore shook his head, much to the growing confusion of Lily and James.

"Our dimension traveler is not your nephew Lily. In fact, not only is he from an alternate dimension, but he is also from twenty-six years in the future."

James blinked. "Did Dudley have a magical child?"

Dumbledore once again shook his head. "No, you misunderstand me. The boy is a Potter."

James frowned. Lily gasped.

"Is, I mean, do we have another child in the future?" asked Lily.

She looked at James. They had both decided not to bring another child into the world until the danger posed by Voldemort and his followers was eradicated.

"No, the boy is not your child." answered Dumbledore.

"Oh enough of your games Dumbledore! Just tell us who the kid is!" yelled James. He was getting quite fed up the circles the headmaster was running them through.

"Very well. He is the son of Harry Potter. He is your grandson."

oO0Oo

It was the shattering of a vile and the loud exclamation of "shit!" that woke him up. Albus, for one, had never heard Madam Pomfrey curse before, unless she was giving Filch a magical rash. He didn't know for sure, but something had happened during his second year to cause the Hogwarts' caretaker and the Hogwarts' healer to come at odds. The rumors went that Madam Pomfrey had "accidentally" kicked Mrs. Norris down a flight of stairs. Albus wasn't sure on the details, but he thought Mrs. Norris might have used Madam Pomfrey's slippers as a litter box once.

He stretched lazily in bed, enjoying the absence of pain and soreness, and snuggled back into the warmth of the itchy hospital standard sheets.

The realization that he was in a different world hit him hard and fast when he heard the voice of Severus Snape question Madam Pomfrey on her store of pepper-up potions.

Albus was glad that the curtains were drawn around his bed. He sat up so fast he almost tumbled off. When he was good and sure that Snape was gone, he gingerly opened the curtains a smidgeon and peaked out. Yep, no where in sight. Neither was Madam Pomfrey. Merlin. What had his parents been thinking when they named him after that creep? At least Severus wasn't his first name.

He felt pressure in his lower abdomen. Nature was calling. The shock of cold stone on his bare feet erased any drowsiness left, and he thankfully found the door to the loo.

Knowing better than trying to escape this early in the game, Albus crawled back into bed. He didn't want to be caught by Snape anyway. And besides, knowing Madam Pomfrey, she'd be walking in any min -

"Good morning Mr. Potter. How are you feeling today? Any aches, pains, soreness?" asked the matron, right on time.

Albus shook his head.

"No Madam Pomfrey. I feel fit as a fiddle! So when am I up for parole? I'm not much for hospital wings."

Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly as she changed the sheets of the bed on Albus' left.

"Neither was your grandfather," she replied.

Albus smiled softly. "Neither was my father."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head with a smile. "I take it he was as much a trouble maker as your grandfather?"

Albus shrugged. "I think trouble usually found Dad than the other way around. But you didn't answer my earlier question. What's my sentence?"

"I'm observing you until later this afternoon. You stay in bed, choke down a few potions, and I might let you out on good behavior," suggested Madam Pomfrey.

Albus made a great show of considering her proposal. "I think I can live with that."

"Good, because you don't have any say in the matter."

"Hey!" replied Albus indignantly.

"Is for horses young man! 'Hi' is for people!" exclaimed a voice from the doorway.

Both Albus and the matron turned to see the headmaster in all his morning glory. Albus thought he might have to shield his eyes if Dumbledore came any closer with his neon yellow robes.

"What's the occasion Albus? You don't usually pull out those ghastly robes on any old day," remarked Madam Pomfrey.

"Oh, nothing special my dear. Just felt like they needed a good airing," returned the headmaster. He pulled up his robes to reveal matching socks peaking out the top of his boots.

"I'm even airing the matching socks," said Dumbledore conversationally.

Albus shook his head. Tales of his namesake's eccentricity was obviously not as exaggerated as he had assumed.

"Now Poppy, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a word with young Mr. Potter here."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Of course not Albus. If you need me, I'll be in my office."

Dumbledore conjured a comfy yellow chair next to Albus' bed. Albus' eyes were starting to ache with all the cheeriness.

"How are you feeling this morning Mr. Potter?" inquired the headmaster.

"I'm just fine, sir. And yourself?" asked Albus, trying to be polite. His mother would have slapped him upside his head otherwise. He'd seen her do it enough with James.

"Oh fine, fine."

Albus decided to just jump right in. After all, he was never one for small talk.

"So, did you get a hold of my grandparents?" asked Albus.

"Yes, I was able to contact Lily and James last night. They flooed over to my office, where I then preceded to inform them that they were the proud new grandparents of a dimension traveling teenager."

"Err, did you put it so bluntly, sir?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I doubt they would have believed me if I had. No, I took my time. I'm afraid to say they were quite shocked by the news. Your grandfather especially. I'm not sure if he believed me at first. Your grandmother did, but James is a little hard-headed. In time, he will come to accept it."

Albus swallowed hard. Uh oh. It seemed as if his grandfather wasn't too happy. Dumbledore more than spelled it out for him.

"So, am I still going to stay with them?" he asked hesitantly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. Your grandmother will be here to pick you up this afternoon following your discharge from the hospital wing. Your grandfather will be at work at the Ministry."

Albus nodded absently. "Okay. That sounds fine."

"For now young Albus, I want to discuss your situation and ask you some questions," continued Dumbledore.

"Sure. Fire away," replied Albus.

The headmaster raised an eyebrow. Albus realized what he had just said.

"Oh, err, it's a muggle term, sir. It means to just start with the questions," explained Albus.

"Oh, my yes. What funny expressions muggles have. It just reminds me of the vastly different cultures we humans live in, whether it be Magical, Muggle, or French," observed Dumbledore.

Albus just nodded in agreement. He wasn't exactly sure what he could say.

"I think it would be wise to keep your true identity a secret for now. I think the only ones who should be in the know are your grandparents, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonnagal, and myself. We will have to devise a cover up for your obvious resemblance to your grandfather, and as to why you are staying with them," said Dumbledore.

Albus nodded. "Yes sir, that seems to be wise. I wouldn't want Voldemort out to get me or anything because I'm a dimension traveler."

Dumbledore beamed. "Exactly my boy! Your safety is our number one prerogative. Now, I've thought of something a bit tricky, try your best to follow. You are actually going to be related to me. You're my grand nephew Albus Reginald Dowling, the son of my brother's daughter, Aurelia, who had such a love for her dear old uncle that she named you after me and gave you your father's name as your middle name. Alas, my great niece and nephew in law died in a boating accident off one of the many isles of Greece. With me so far?" asked Dumbledore.

"Err, yes," replied Albus. He was mentally going over everything to make sure he remembered.

"As to the remarkable resemblance to the Potter line, Reginald Dowling is actually the son of the bastard daughter of your great grandfather John Potter, which in all actuality is your great great grandfather. John was known to be a womanizer. It's not that far of a stretch. You've been sent to live with me, as my brother has been deemed unfit to care for children after that unfortunate accident with the goat, but I can't possibly see to your care during a war. So therefore, your relatives, the Potters, have agreed to take you in."

Albus blinked. "Impressive, sir."

"Why thank you my boy!"

"Now, my niece and nephew in law actually did die in a boating accident in Greece, but they had no children. I'll file the necessary paperwork later this afternoon. If anyone bothered to look, which I see no reason why they should, then your story will check out. Oh, and you were home schooled. You were born in England and lived there for awhile. That will explain the accent, but you moved to South Africa when you were eleven because your parents weren't comfortable with the growing threat of Voldemort. Any questions?"

Albus shook his head.

"Now, can you remember everything?" asked Dumbledore.

Albus nodded, but Dumbledore insisted on quizzing him just to make sure. After Dumbledore was assured that they both knew the same story, he brought the conversation to other matters.

"You said yesterday that your father wasn't raised by his parents, that James and Lily died when he was a baby. Did he go and live with Sirius then? I understand he was Harry's godfather here," said Dumbledore.

"No, Dad didn't go and live with his godfather. He went to live with his mum's sister Petunia and her husband Vernon Dursley. Dad's godfather wasn't able to take him," replied Albus.

"Ah, must have been where you picked up the muggle term then, if your father was raised in the muggle world," said Dumbledore.

"Yeah, it drives Mum bonkers when he says them. She accuses him of making them up on the spot sometimes, just to get her riled up," said Albus with a wistful smile.

Dumbledore chuckled, but continued his questioning.

"So how did your grandparents die?" asked Dumbledore.

"Voldemort came to their house in Godric's Hollow and murdered them," said Albus.

"Oh dear. How dreadful. How did little Harry survive?"

Albus really didn't want to get into the real story. It was too fantastic. He doubted the headmaster would believe that his dad had survived the killing curse. And if he did . . .

If Albus was in an alternate universe, and no one knew what had happened to his dad, then he didn't want anyone to know. If they knew that he was the son of the famous Harry Potter, then what would they do? Would the light side expect him to be the next savior of the wizarding world? Would they expect him to defeat the Voldemort here as his father did in Albus' world? No, it would be best not to mention what really happened.

Albus looked away from the headmaster, sniffing and playing with a loose thread on his pillow case. It was best to act upset. "I'm not really sure Headmaster. There was an explosion of some kind, and they found my father in the wreckage."

Albus looked back up at the headmaster after he had finished his lie.

"You sent him to live with the Dursley's. They were the only family he had left."

Dumbledore nodded, patting Albus' shoulder reassuringly. Maybe those drama classes he'd been forced to attend in muggle primary school was finally paying off.

The headmaster felt it was prudent to change topics.

"So tell me about your mother. I had the pleasure of knowing Ms. Weasley, but only briefly. Is she anything like your grandmother Weasley?" asked Dumbledore.

Albus chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you could say she's got Grandmum's temper, but she sure can't cook like Grandmum. Dad does the cooking at home. Mum couldn't boil water without setting the kitchen on fire," said Albus.

Dumbledore smiled. "I would have thought she'd inherited her mother's cooking abilities."

"Boy do I wish. I think Lily's going to take after Mum. She tried making us dinner one night as a surprise. The only surprise we got was when we found newts in the soup. I think she got some potion ingredients mixed in with the potatoes or something," said Albus.

"I've found that to happen from time to time. However, here at Hogwarts, it is usually the students who purposely put them in the food," remarked Dumbledore.

Albus smiled. James and he had done something like that sometime ago. It was nice having family friends that worked at Hogwarts, even if they were hyper active house-elves.

"Now Mr. Potter, about your arrival here. I noticed that you were in your Quidditch robes. Were you perhaps playing in a Quidditch game?" asked Dumbledore.

Albus shook his head. "No, it was just a practice. James is our captain, and he said since the big game against Slytherin was coming up, we should practice rain or shine. He wasn't kidding. It seems like the storm from last night was happening at the same time as it was in my world."

Dumbledore leaned back into his chair, stroking his beard and humming in thought.

"Let me look at something. I'll visit you at the Potter's when I've had time to do some research, but I want you to know Mr. Potter, there's a war going on right now with Voldemort. I won't have a great deal of time to dedicate to my research. You may be with us for a while," said Dumbledore gravely.

Albus nodded dumbly. He hadn't realized that he could be stuck here. A queasy feeling settled itself in the pit of his stomach. He all the sudden wasn't feeling as well as he once was.

"I'm afraid I must cut our meeting short Mr. Potter. Your grandmother will be here shortly. I'll make sure to send Madam Pomfrey with a tray. You look like you might be hungry," observed Dumbledore, dispelling the conjured yellow chair.

No, Albus thought, he was far from hungry. He felt as if he was going to be sick.

He said his goodbyes to the Headmaster, who promptly took his leave, and refused everything that Madam Pomfrey had offered him except the potions. He could stomach little else.

He pulled the curtains around his bed closed, hoping to block out what little sunlight he could. He didn't want to think that he wouldn't be seeing his parents again soon. He didn't want to think that here he was essentially an orphan. He didn't want to think about meeting his grandparents, or that his grandfather couldn't accept his existence. All Albus wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up at home.

He was almost asleep too, but a knock at the Infirmary door drew him back to the realm of consciousness.

He didn't think the knock had been loud enough, because he didn't hear Madam Pomfrey coming to answer it. There was another knock, followed by another bout of unanswered silence. Finally, he heard the door open.

"Poppy? Are you here?" questioned the voice of a woman.

Albus felt another sick feeling in his stomach. This time from nerves. He'd bet his broomstick he knew who that voice belonged to, even if he had never heard her voice before in his life.

He peaked through the curtains. The woman had her back turned towards him, walking towards Madam Pomfrey's office door, but the auburn hair was a clue as any.

Lily Potter was here. He was about to meet his grandmother.

oO0Oo


	5. Dead

"_The __Lord__ is my shepherd; I shall not want._

_He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:_

_he leadeth me beside the still waters._

_He restoreth my soul:_

_he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake._

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,_

_I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;_

_thy rod and thy staff they comfort me._

_Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:_

_thou anointest__my head with oil; my cup runneth over._

_Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:_

_and I will dwell in the house of the __Lord__ for ever."_

- Psalms 23

Dead

oO0Oo

Ginny Potter was cooking dinner for her husband. Well, more correctly, Ginny Potter was trying to fix the hole in the wall before her husband returned home from work and saw it. If there was one thing that had always bothered Ginny, it was her inability to cook for her family. Oh sure, Ginny spent galleons and galleons on magical cook books, Quik-Cook Charms, and Cauldron Crafts, but it seemed like the harder she tried, the harder she'd have to scrub the counters afterwards.

Seeing as tonight was a special night, namely the anniversary of their engagement, Ginny had thought to surprise her husband with a home cooked meal he hadn't made himself. But to her everlasting horror, the duck she had been attempting to stuff was obviously still alive. If she didn't know any better she would swear it had been jinxed! But in her zeal to debilitate the squawking bird, she had blasted the duck to smithereens, and in the process she had also blasted a hole through her kitchen wall.

Feathers littered the floor, along with various bits of duck, and the veggies had been hit by a stray curse, so they weren't going to be edible either. All in all, the kitchen looked like a war zone, and her husband was due home any minute.

Ginny ran to the living room, feathers swirling in her wake, to look at the family grandfather clock. Her eyes were instantly drawn to her husband's picture.

Oh Merlin! It said Travelling! With a frustrated scream Ginny raced back to the kitchen. She threw her arm out in a swooping gesture, banishing the disastrous dinner and its resulting mess. She still didn't know what to do about the hole in the wall.

"What to do. . . What to do . . ." she mumbled, rubbing her hands on her apron, her eyes searching the kitchen as if it held the answers.

Her eyes lit upon the old picture of a fruit bowl that had been in the kitchen for years.

"Perfect! I think it'll work!"

With a wave of her wand, the picture was hung above the hole, effectively hiding the offending gap. And it was just in time too. Ginny pulled off her apron, balled it, and threw it absently into the opened door of the kitchen pantry. So much for dinner tonight.

"Ginny! I'm home!" called the voice of her husband.

She met him at the door. He had just finished hanging up his outer cloak when he was accosted by an armful of Ginny Potter.

"Oomph! Well! It would sure be nice to be greeted this way every night Mrs. Potter!" Harry chuckled.

"Well I would greet you this way every night if every night was as special as this one Mr. Potter," said Ginny, leaning up to kiss her husband.

"Oh? And what's so special about tonight Mrs. Potter?" asked Harry.

Harry knew the exact moment he screwed up. It was when he had opened his mouth. Ginny froze in his arms, and if he hadn't had known that he had just made a monumental mistake, he would have sworn she had been hit with a body bind curse.

Ginny pushed herself out of her husband's arms and glared at him.

"What do you mean, 'What's so special about tonight'?" she said in a low tone. Harry knew that voice.

"Oh, Ginny, you know I'm just joshing you! How could you think that I would forget about tonight?" asked Harry, his own voice the epitome of sincerity.

Ginny didn't look half convinced, but Harry could tell that he had gotten somewhere. There was that little spark of doubt in her eyes. Now all he had to do was fan the flames. Besides, there were only three times a year when Ginny would get like this. It was either her birthday, their wedding anniversary, or their engagement anniversary. And since her birthday wasn't until sometime in the spring, and their wedding anniversary was in the summer, then fall marked the engagement anniversary. And that was how Harry Potter kept up with all the important dates. It was easier to remember seasons as opposed to dates after all.

Harry took her in his arms and held her gently against his chest. Resting his head on hers, he softly swayed them to a musical tune heard only by the couple.

"My silly little Ginny. Do you honestly think I'd forget about tonight?" he whispered.

He heard her sigh in content. He smirked against her fiery hair. He was good.

"How could you honestly expect me to forget about today? I should be offended," he chuckled.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry! But I was just so sure that you had for – "

Harry quieted his wife with a finger. "I could never forget the day I graduated the Auror program! It was one of the happiest days of my life Gin!"

The change was instantaneous. Gone was the doe eyed woman swooning within his arms. Ginny pushed herself out of Harry's arms hard, causing Harry to stumble back a bit. Harry wasn't surprised when she looked like she wanted to slap him either. But then she saw the grin on his face.

"Harry James Potter! How dare you! That was not funny! Stop laughing you bastard!" she yelled.

Ginny tried to land a smack on the back of his head, but Harry ducked.

"Whoa! Ginny! Calm down! I told you I was joshing! I just didn't tell you about what! Happy anniversary! You hear me! I said it! I didn't forget!" exclaimed Harry, throwing his hands up in surrender.

She folded her arms across her chest and huffed.

"Oh come on Gin! How old are we?" jeered Harry, laughing at her stance.

Ginny blushed. "We're not that old Harry James Potter!"

"You're right my love!"

And with that Harry started to tickle Ginny's sides, where she was the most ticklish. She yelped and tried to dodge, but Harry was having none of that. With a challenging yell the race was on. Ginny shot into the living room, closely followed by Harry. She made it to one end of the couch, Harry on the other. She'd step, and he'd mimic. It seemed as if they were at a stand still. No one was going to make a move until the other did.

"W – Well! You sure are . . . huffing like an old man!" said Ginny between gasping breathes.

"I could . . . s-say the . . . same for you!" Harry gasped back.

Just then, the fireplace chimed, signaling an incoming firecall.

Harry glanced at Ginny.

"Truce?"

She nodded. "I guess I'll just kick your ass later."

"Ha. Yeah right," Harry shot back.

"Mrs. Potter? Are you home? Ginny? Harry?"

Harry and Ginny gave up their positions by the couch and both knelt before their large fire place.

"Hi Minerva. What brings you calling tonight?" Harry asked the head of Minerva McGonagall.

"Oh, it's not James again is it? What has he done now?" asked Ginny.

McGonagall shook her head. "No, I'm afraid it's nothing like that. Do you mind if I come on through?"

"No, that's fine," said Harry. He didn't have a good feeling about this.

"I'll be through in a moment," McGonagall responded.

Ginny and Harry shared a look before standing and making room for their once professor's arrival.

With a swoosh and a flash of green, McGonagall was in their living room.

"Have a seat Minerva. Would you care for some tea?" asked Ginny, gesturing for the elderly woman to sit.

"No thank you. I don't believe the news I have is fit for tea," said McGonagall.

This had Harry and Ginny's attention. They both took a seat on the couch, and Ginny's hand found its way into Harry's. Whatever news the professor had to impart, by the look of her grim expression, it wasn't good news.

"Is it one of the children?" asked Ginny.

Harry felt a cold chill grip him. One of his children? Surely to Merlin it wasn't anything serious. Maybe a broom accident or a duel gone wrong. No, not one of his children, please no.

"Yes, I am afraid so."

McGonagall hesitated. "There's been an accident."

Harry closed his eyes briefly. McGonagall wouldn't be dragging it out if it wasn't something serious. Ginny seemed to be thinking along the same lines, if the gasp was anything to attest to.

"Who?" asked Harry harshly.

McGonagall, to her credit, did not blanch.

"Albus."

"Oh God, What's happened to him? Is he alright?" exclaimed Ginny, leaning towards McGonagall.

"He was at Quidditch practice. Something went wrong, we don't know what yet. All the rest of the team knows is that there was a blinding flash of light, and then Albus was gone, disappeared from the air. All that we could find was a burnt piece of his uniform, not even his broom. We have the professors searching the Forbidden Forest, but so far they haven't found anything. However, they are still searching. I thought it was best to come here and inform you both immediately."

Ginny was already in tears before McGonagall could finish. Harry, for his part, was numb.

"I'll have the Aurors on it immediately," said Harry, detangling his wife from his side and lurching towards the fireplace.

He paused and then looked to McGonagall for permission. After all, she was the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Yes, by all means, please," she gestured towards the floo pot.

Reaching inside, Harry grabbed a handful and threw it into the fire.

Sticking his head into the emerald flames, he called, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Cryder's Office."

Harry felt nauseous. Fire calling was a bit like travelling by floo except your head was the only thing that was spinning. Add that to the worry for his son, and Harry thought he was going to be physically ill.

Soon enough, the spinning stopped, and he was shouting into the office of his second in command.

"Cryder! Cryder get your ass in here now!"

A man maybe a few or more years older than Harry stuck his balding head into the office.

"Boss! I thought you were at home with the Missus this evening!" he exclaimed, confusion cleary written on his face.

"I was. But we've got a problem, Cryder. My son is missing from Hogwarts. Whether foul play's afoot or not, I'm not sure, but I want you to head up a team of the best Aurors we got and go to Hogwarts now! Do I make myself clear, Cryder? I want you and your team to find my son! I'll meet you at the school as soon as I settle my wife. McGonagall should be able to point you in the right direction."

"Aye, sir! I'll have our best there in five."

Harry nodded and pulled his head out from the flames.

"Cryder's got a team headed to Hogwarts. Minerva, do you mind meeting Cryder and briefing him on the situation?"

"Certainly Harry. I'll go right now. I'll expect you shortly?" she asked, rising from her chair.

Harry nodded. McGonagall threw the green powder into the fireplace, stepped through, and called out Hogwarts.

Harry turned to Ginny. She was as white as a sheet.

"You don't think someone kidnapped him, do you Harry?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know Gin. I just don't know," replied Harry, his fingers nervously brushing through his hair.

Ginny suddenly froze, her eyes wide with a knowledge and understanding that Harry was not privy to. She slowly turned her head, looking into the corner of the room. Harry followed her gaze, but wasn't sure what she was looking at, until he saw the grandfather clock.

"I - I don't think I can l-look," she stammered.

"No, you stay here. I'll go."

Walking to the grandfather clock felt like walking to the executioner's block. His feet were heavy, his palms were sweaty, and Harry really _really_ did not want to look. He wasn't brave enough to face this.

But somehow, he must have been, because before he knew it, Harry was facing the grandfather clock that had been given to them as a wedding present from the Weasleys. With such familiarity Harry traced the pictures and the names of his family. There were many pictures on this clock face, including Ron and Hermione and their children. One by one, Harry traced his fingers down the faces of his beloved family, until he came to his son's picture.

He saw the picture. He saw the words, but they did not register. They refused to register. He stood, as still as a rock, his finger poised over the face of his child, and for the very breath in him he could not say a word. He could not even think. His whole world had come to a stand still.

"Harry?" asked Ginny tentatively.

"Harry, what does it say?" she asked once more. Her voice had taken on an eerie calm.

"Harry, answer me," she demanded.

But Harry did not hear her. He could only hear the pounding of the blood in his ears and the faint, almost child like voice in the back of his mind that screamed no, no, no. Not Albus. Please, not Albus. Never Albus. Never his child.

"GODDAMNIT HARRY! ANSWER ME! ANSWER ME!" she screamed, tears and sobs gushing forth.

But Harry could not hear her. He could only hear someone screaming in his head, no, no, no. He could not move, he didn't even try to move, his finger poised over the word 'dead.'

oO0Oo


	6. Family

_I have been happy, tho' in a dream._

I have been happy- and I love the theme:

Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life,

As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife

Of semblance with reality, which brings

To the delirious eye, more lovely things

Of Paradise and Love- and all our own!

Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known. 

- From _Dreams_ by Edgar Allan Poe

Family

oO0Oo

Albus felt another sick feeling in his stomach. This time from nerves. He'd bet his broomstick he knew who that voice belonged to, even if he had never heard her voice before in his life. He peaked through the curtains. The woman had her back turned towards him, walking towards Madam Pomfrey's office door, but the auburn hair was a clue as any. Lily Potter was here. He was about to meet his grandmother.

oO0Oo

He must have made a noise of some kind. If he had to guess, he probably gasped, because the woman with auburn hair obviously heard something coming from behind the curtained hospital bed. Mustering up the courage his family was so famous for, Albus sat up in bed and drew back the curtains. Besides, it would have been damn awkward if he hadn't, and he'd sure as hell wasn't going to hide behind the curtains like a scared little kid!

For the longest moment they just stared, each taking in the other's appearance. Lily Potter of this world was not the grandmother he had imagined. He had always pictured her as old, with grey hair and wrinkles. She would smile at him through her wrinkles, her green peeping through heavy eyelids. She would even be wearing an old robe that had been out of style for years. That was how he had always thought his grandmother would look like if she had still been alive.

Instead, this Lily Potter was very different. She was young, with short auburn hair just brushing her shoulders, and very few wrinkles. She didn't dress in old lady robes, but robes he expected to see his own mother in.

Albus didn't know if he should say something or wait for her to make the first move, so he chose the later.

Lily Potter, for her part, was just as dumbstruck as her would be grandson. For one thing, this boy looked extraordinarily how she had imagined her son to look if he had lived. Another thing that was surprising was his age. This was her grandson, and yet if Dumbledore was correct, the young man in front of her was older than her son would be if he was here. It was hard to reconcile the radical idea within her mind, but it didn't really matter.

The only thing that mattered was that the boy in front of her was the child of her son. Maybe not exactly _her _Harry, but a Harry Potter that _could_ have been her son nonetheless. They shared the same genetics, and so did this boy. This boy was her grandson. He was a part of Harry and therefore a part of her. Lily had never been so thankful or so in awe of magic than she was at that very moment. This was truly a blessing, and she was not going to let the opportunity escape.

Albus was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable under his grandmother's gaze. He could literally see the longing in her eyes as she looked at him. He was the spitting image of his father, so it wasn't too hard to figure out why she would look at him in such a way. He was just sorry that his dad wasn't in his place. Albus knew how hard his father had it growing up without parents. Albus had always known the love of a mother and father, and so he wished his father was sitting on this bed instead of him.

"I'm sorry," the woman said softly.

Albus blinked. What in the world was she apologizing for? He should be the one apologizing! Merlin only knew what the poor woman was going through.

Seeing his confused look, Lily elaborated.

"I mean, I'm sorry for staring. You . . . I, I mean, well, you just look so much like I had pictured Harry to look like," she finished helplessly.

Albus nodded. "It's okay. I get that a lot."

His voice seemed to be the final straw for his grandmother. She burst into tears, and sat herself hard on a bed two down from his own.

"Oh Merlin," he groaned quietly to himself. He hated it when women cried.

Glad that he was wearing pajamas in lieu of the standard backless hospital dress, Albus hobbled his way over to his grandmother. He sat himself awkwardly next to her. He made to pat her shoulder, but stopped. He was afraid that if he touched her she'd just cry more.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't cry," he tried, giving up and awkwardly patting her shoulder.

Instead of this having a mitigating effect, it just made the woman cry harder to Albus' undying horror. And then she did something even more unexpected. She grabbed him in a death grip like hold, hugging him close and crying on his shoulder. She would mumble nonsense into his shoulder, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what she was saying, so he chose instead to pat her back and wait it out.

Around this time, Madame Pomfrey walked into the room, no doubt investigating the blubbering his grandmother was doing. He threw a pleading glance in her direction, motioning with his eyes to the crying woman and mouthing 'Help!'

She didn't even stop. Hell, she walked out of her office, took one look at the scene, and the looped right back into her office, shutting the door quietly.

He huffed silently to himself. For the love of Merlin wouldn't someone help him! He didn't know what to do in this kind of situation! So, defeated, Albus just kept patting his grandmother on the back, telling her that it was going to be okay.

It seemed to work. His grandmother's tears subsided almost as quickly as they had come. She pulled herself out of his embrace, wiping away tears and laughing at herself. Merlin! He would never understand women!

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I'm acting like a complete baby! Bawling all over your robes . . . you must think I'm a complete fool!" she hiccupped, waving her wand to clean off Albus' pajamas.

"No, no! Don't apologize! If I was in your spot I'd probably be doing the same thing!" he hastily reassured her.

Lily finished wiping her tears away on a handkerchief she had conjured and blew her nose. With a wave of her wand, the handkerchief was effectively banished.

"You wanna try again?" asked Albus.

Lily laughed and nodded her head. She stuck out her hand.

"Hi. My name is Lily Ann Potter. I'm your grandmother," she smiled.

Albus returned her smile and shook her hand. "Albus Severus Potter. I'm your grandson. Pleased to meet you, at last."

"At last," Lily agreed.

oO0Oo

James Potter was brooding. When he returned home tonight, his grandson would be there. But it wasn't _really _his grandson. It was just some kid that had fallen into this world. It wasn't like his son was alive somewhere. It wasn't like he had a long lost grandson or something. It was just some kid that _could_ have been his grandson. It wasn't like his baby boy was back from the dead.

He was currently pacing the worn patch of carpet in his office. James kicked the side of the desk, causing a pile of paperwork to wobble precariously. He just didn't know what to think! So James Potter did what he did when he didn't know what to think – he didn't think. He just paced. He had been pacing this particular track of carpet for years now. Every failed raid, every escaped Death Eater, every _thing_ that went wrong – it was all worried right into the carpet by his feet.

Running his hand through his hair, he stopped, and leaned against the desk. He stared down at the threadbare carpet, but did not see it. Instead he saw the face of his beautiful baby boy, smiling up at his father.

A knock at the door interrupted the vision. With as shake of the head to clear his scattered mind, James called for the person on the other side.

"It's open!"

Remus stuck his head inside. "Hey, mind if I come in?"

James just waved him in, going around his desk and plopping himself into his chair.

"So what's going on? Any emergencies?" he asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"Oh, no. It's nothing work-related. I was just dropping by, you know, thought I'd just . . . stop by and chat," said Remus nonchalantly, taking a seat in front of James' desk.

James narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"And what do you want?" he asked.

Remus smiled. "James! You know me so well! I was actually wondering about your cousin. I heard he was coming to stay with you."

James lifted an eyebrow. Cousin? He didn't have any – oh. _Cousin_.

"You know what they said about curiousity and cats don't you Moony?"

"Good thing I'm a canine then," Remus shot back.

James just shook his head in defeat.

"Yeah, the kid's name is Albus Dowling. Didn't even know I had a cousin until I heard about good old John Potter and his womanizing ways. Well, I mean I _knew_ he had been quite the ladies man, but you would have expected him to at least charm himself before he got down to it. I'm just surprised I'm related to Dumbledore, in a roundabout way," replied James.

"So that's how you are related. I was wondering. I knew you didn't have any relatives on your mother's side, but I wasn't so sure about your father's side. I remember you telling me about your promiscuous forefathers. I'm not surprised to see long lost Potters crawling out of the woodwork," Remus chuckled.

James nodded. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised either."

"Say, didn't you mention the kid is related to the headmaster?" asked Remus.

"Yeah, that's where the name comes from. He's Dumbledore's great nephew or great great nephew. I'm sketchy on the details, but Dumbledore asked us to take him in for awhile seeing as he's busy with the Order."

Remus nodded. "Makes sense. So have you met him yet?"

James shook his head.

"Not yet. Frankly, I'm a bit hesitant. Dumbledore says the Potter genes are strong in him. He said that Albus could probably even be passed off as my son . . . "he trailed off.

"Oh," said Remus, suddenly understanding why his friend looked so worn down.

"Oh," Remus repeated.

James just gave his friend a look. "Cut it out Moony! I'll be fine!"

Remus just shrugged.

"Well, don't take it out on the kid or anything. I ran into him in the hospital wing. Seems like a good kid to me. And besides, you of all people should know that we can't help what we are, or what we look like, or even the circumstances of our birth. I'm just staying Prongs, as a friend to a friend, don't do anything stupid. The poor kid's probably going through a lot. He's lost his family too."

With those parting words, Remus left, leaving James to his thoughts.

What Remus had said did make sense. James snorted. Out of all his close friends, Remus had always been the one to make sense in seemingly senseless situations.

With a sigh and a glance at the clock, James gathered up his cloak. It was time to face the music, whether he wanted to or not.

As James threw the Floo powder into the fireplace, only one thought made itself clear among the jumbled mess of his worries.

'But what if the family that Albus has lost is the same that I have lost? What then?'

oO0Oo

"Well, how do you like it?"

Albus was, to put it mildly, shocked. He had always known that he and his family had lived in the same town that his father's parents had lived, but he didn't know that they lived in the exact same house.

"Erm . . . it's . . . " he trailed off, at a loss for words.

Lily looked worriedly at her grandson.

"What is it Albus?" she asked.

They were standing on the front lawn were the headmaster have provided a portkey for them. Lily glanced at her home. There didn't seem to be anything wrong, just her normal house. So why was her grandson so wide-eyed?

"Oh, it's just, this is my house," said Albus, gesturing to the house in front of him.

Lily was confused. "It is?"

He nodded and then explained. "This is where my family lives, or lived, or, uh, lived in, you know, in the other world."

Sudden understanding dawned upon Lily.

"Oh, of course! If James and I had died in your world, then of course we would have left the house to Harry! So this is where you grew up?" she asked.

Albus nodded, his eyes still locked on the house.

"Well, you should be feeling right at home then!" smiled Lily as she gestured for him to follow her into the house.

Albus hesitantly returned her smile and followed.

However, when Albus walked into the house that was and wasn't his, he felt anything but at home. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It just smelled different. Not like anything bad, but Albus had noticed that different homes had different smells, and this house did not smell anything like his did.

The second thing he noticed was the wallpaper, and then the carpet, and then pictures, and of course the furniture. No, Albus didn't feel at home here. It still felt like a stranger's house.

"Well, as you probably know, there's four bedrooms upstairs. Which one was yours in your world?" she asked.

"The third door down on the left."

"Oh, good. That's perfect. It's the guest room here. But I suppose the house is a bit different from yours, hm? How about a tour?"

Albus shrugged. "That sounds good."

Lily showed Albus the house that was his and wasn't his. It was like someone had come into his house and totally redecorated. The one thing that really stuck out though, besides the obvious differences, was the gigantic stuffed deer head over the mantle piece. It's antlers were huge!

"Pretty impressive, huh?" asked Lily when she noticed where Albus' gaze rested.

"Uh . . ." Albus didn't quite know what to say.

Yes, it was impressive, but at the same time, he hadn't expected something so . . . tacky. It just didn't fit in with the rest of the house, and from what Albus had seen, the house was pretty tastefully put together.

Lily laughed at his expression, and Albus had the graciousness to blush.

"Oh don't worry. I hate it too, but it was the only thing James had really wanted in the living room. I figured it was a fair trade if I got to decorate the rest of the house. But can you imagine what any guests we had would think if they saw that monstrosity in my living room? I made him promise that if we were ever entertaining guests that he would put it in the attic," she said.

"But then why isn't it in the attic now? I'm here?" asked Albus. Surely his grandmother would have though about putting _that_ away before he got here.

Lily just smiled. "Oh, sweetie, don't be silly. You're not a guest. You're family!"

Albus returned her smile, surprised as his grandmother made him realize something. He may have been separated from his family, but that didn't mean that he was completely alone after all.


End file.
